


Yarn

by StormsThing1



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Gen, dipnip, he gets tangled in yarn, he so high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormsThing1/pseuds/StormsThing1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early morning, the giant yarn basket was, for once in it's life, more than just a yarn basket. It was a demon catcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yarn

There was this great, big yarn basket eternally sitting in the living room, right next to the couch. Seriously, the thing was massive, it was wider than the couch was. When the triplets were little, Henry had insisted that they put the thing on a higher shelf so that they wouldn't get into it and choke themselves on yarn, or stab themselves with knitting needles, or stab others with knitting needles. However, since the triplets turned ten, they thought they were safe from any accidents happening, and the basket has been casually resting on the ground for the past three years.

They thought wrong. They were not safe from yarn accidents.

The first sign was the yowling. In the wee hours of the morning, eldritch squeals and mewls echoed through the home.

The triplets woke up slowly, Acacia flat out slept through it and had to be woken by Hank and Willow.

Stan was a dinosaur and didn't even turn over.

Mabel was poked awake by Henry, him saying, “It's your turn to tend to the things that go bump in the night.”

“Dipper'll get it,” she insisted, and turned over along with most of the blanket, tugging on her mental link, just praying her bro-bro wouldn't make her get out of bed.

He did. She decided after a good minute of tugging he wasn't going to deal with the issue, and that she'd have to do it herself.

She slid her feet into fuzzy bunny slippers and stumbled down the hall, ramming her knee into one of the doors that had been left ajar and slapping the door back.

Then she entered the living room, the source of the sounds and stopped. Just. Stopped.

Her yarn basket was quivering. It was quivering and yowling and mewling. And a head of brown hair and familiar, remorseful gold-on-black, though the black was nearly invisible due to the gold, eyes stared out at her, the stare of an animal that had made the WRONG CHOICE and was now paying dearly for it.

Next came the laughter. The tear-jerking, stomach-aching laughter that made Mabel double over and grip the end table for support as she blindly groped for either her camera or the light switch, whichever one met her hand first.

This was what woke the Pines household from their sleepy reverie. Something making eldritch noises downstairs? It'll be dealt with eventually. Mabel's loudest laughter to ever grace the world at this hour of the night—er, morning? The family moves en masse to view the object of ridicule. 

Next came thudding as three rambunctious pairs of feet raced to see what had gotten their mother so riled up at such an ungodly hour as this.

In the living room they were greeted with camera flashes—the camera came before the light switch, but Willow took care of the light, and they were not disappointed.

For in the great big box of all things knitting and yarn and crafts their uncle, higher than ever imagined possible on this plane of existence, had managed to get himself tangled beyond belief, and was making quite the fuss about it.

His face was one of pure distress, as he looked out at his guffawing family through a pink glitter strand that had fallen before his eyes. He reached up with a hand wrapped tight in blue and green and orange and silvery sparkles, and gave a more forceful mewl, his bottom lip jutting out. His little butt-wings flapped sadly from their pink and green and white and yellow and glow-in-the-dark prison, and he rolled over, more like body spasms, trying to get his family to notice the dire situation he was in, but now he was upside down and tangled more, and they were still laughing, even the tall one that would carry him around.

Eventually once his sister was done snapping all the pictures she could ever conceivably use and more just to last her to the end of the week, and a few more still to give her ammo, they all helped out to get the high demon out from his dazzling prison. Once he was free they couldn't get him to stop clinging to them, and ended up in a sleepy pile on the couch, which Mabel took a selfie of.

From that day forth, the yarn basket was viewed in a new light, as a demon catcher.


End file.
